the vampire of happiness

33 | black candles

              

(same day, or night? lol.)

         

                I don't know what's the rush? As far as I'm concerned — mom's never finding a decent date, ever, and any man entering Iris Valeria 's 3 mile radius will automatically be zapped by her daughter slash man hater Lilith.

So what's the rush here? Why do I gotta chain this spirit to my fore-extended-arm, like right now?

I still wound up with the pentacle across my school campus. Now what, do I need to get butt naked and dance around it?

"Do you have the candles, green and indigo ones?" Their voice is chilling.

Okay, maybe they are real. Maybe I'm not being followed around by convulsed cloud, you know, gathering around my ankles like I'm supposed to be the nuclear power source of a star? Hahaha, astronomy joke.

You won't get it, obviously. Not until sometime later.

Maybe look up how first generation star balls were formed? Maybe use Google for other things, porno isn't even that great? And the maps, the maps are bleh, the street view is loathsome — extremely reductive.

I do have Google Earth. But whatever. Moving on.

I'm shoved. "What is your goddamn problem?"

"Not sure, other than your friend's romping?"

Romping — the fuck? — this mauve gas must have had crossed centuries, just to get to me? Shame.

"He's just excited? It's his first night out and everything."

"What if he walks in on us?"

On us doing what? This activity is demented, consisting of but not limited to rosemary hazel, black candles (they were so friggin cheap, the thrift store we stopped by was practically giving it away!), and, as if you couldn't guess, a book of spells.

Funnily, it's my witch journal. Meaning it's gonna be long before I put anything significant, magical in there.

"Hello?"

"Still here, I got it, hush now."

"Do you—"

"Maybe step back a bit?"

"How's that now?"

"A little farther," I mumbled.

"Now good?"

"Keep walking."

"Ow?"

Hahaha, that corner is teacher's. Usually, airconditioner vents go off there like crazy. "Did that blow your brains out?" I wanted to shout, but knowing my situation, perhaps it was for the best that I just lit up the remaining candles and waited. With an impatient smile.

My book of spells is the prettiest. It has orchids, small buds, and it's nice and thick and at least four hundred pages long, not that I started counting right away — no, I did that during my very great performance tonight.

By now, I'm sure I've been developing eye bags. Dorothy's gonna get worried sick tomorrow. I sighed.

"Now light it."

"The paper?"

Never in a billion years I'd have ever thought that the fog would make me do something so cruel, unheard of : tearing a piece of paper, to note my desires or whatever.

Turns out, burning stuff is pretty goddamn important task.

"Say keep the negative spirits out of this."

I repeated, making little sense out of this ordeal. Wanderers of the night creeping up on this, trying to crash this? Would have sounded believable if my shoulders weren't itching with exhaustion. Drowsiness, it continues warming my body as we went ahead.

"I, Everett Evers, hereby bind my soul with The Spirit of Time, The Essence of Universe.."

"I, Everett Evers, hereby bind my soul with The Spirit of Time, The Essence of Universe." My version being much less enthusiastic.

It made the skies tear up. Powerful winds. For what seemed to be drizzle, it eventually turns onto a downpour, wetting everything in its wake.

I hope Ray's inside. I hope Ray's all right.

"Stop thinking about your friends safety! Focus for once!"

Yeah, yeah, sorry—

It's just that Lee would have my head for breakfast if anything were to happen to his goddamn precious blue-haired weirdest son.

That's probably it.

The gale causes me involuntary shives, no lie. Water is fast puddling up—

And yes that's a real expression, shut the fuck—

"Now sign, Everett Evers."

This fucking spirit—

I do as I'm told.

Don't gimme that look, had it been you, you'd have done the same — for the sake of sanity and health and my lungs are on fire, goddammit.

"Wait, hold up, your name doesn't have triple T letters."

Are you fucking kidding me?

The letter, also known as the contract, glows in the dark, in spite of the incoming rainstorm.

My handwriting is unstable.

Still, I smudge off the extra T.

Well I tried to.

"Ray!" I say with what I feel is finality, soaked to my bone, perhaps, "Let's head back! Come on, boy!"

*＊✿❀○❀✿＊*

a little reminder that real witchcraft is more complicated.
— oriona